


Aftermath

by PrecariousSauce



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9788858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrecariousSauce/pseuds/PrecariousSauce
Summary: Right now, staying together was the only act of defiance they had.





	

They’d stayed together. 

Roman and Dean had dragged themselves out of the ring together, retreated to the back together, crawled into their rental car together, and staggered into Roman’s hotel room together. Right now, staying together was the only act of defiance they had.

Dean had started talking the second the audience’s eyes were off them while Roman hadn’t said a single word since the chair hit his back. Dean had chattered around in circles, spiraling out from _why the Hell did he do that_ down to _I’m gonna kill him I swear to God_ and further down to _I should’ve known fuck me I should’ve known_ and further downward still. It flowed from Dean’s mind directly to his mouth and out to the empty space where Seth would’ve been between Roman setting his bag on the bed and Dean pacing the floor.

_They all make enough money to put themselves up in single rooms but Seth and Dean both can never go right to sleep after a drive and need to wind down; none of them ever admit it but adjusting to sleeping alone is difficult after so long sharing one room so it’s easier this way. One of them usually ends up passing out in Roman’s room anyway and Roman never moves them. It’s almost always Seth–_

Dean screwed his eyes shut tight and raked his nails through his hair. It’s not Seth– It’s never going to _be_ Seth, there’s a big empty space now– “God _damn it_ how could he do this to us?!”

Roman finally spoke, his voice small and soft; “I don’t know.”

Dean was practically screaming as he paced frantic loops up and down from the bed to the bathroom; “God _damn it_ we had a _PLAN!_ That _motherfucker_ drilled it into my head to stick to our goddamn plan but _failed to fucking mention_ that he was gonna _bail_ – What the _Hell_ do we do now?!”

Roman hadn’t moved from where he stood beside the bed; “I don’t _know._ ”

Dean kicked the wall as he kept on shouting, “God _damn it_ we gave him everything! _Everything!_ And he just leaves us, high and fucking dry! What do we _do? What the Hell are we gonna do next?_ Do we just start going after the titles like nothing fucking happened?! What titles would we even chase, the fucking _tag titles?_ We could barely hold it together with Seth keeping the peace- Do we go after _him?_ The _Authority?_ Son of a _Bitch_ , Roman, _what the Hell do we do_ –“

Roman’s voice roared over his, “ _I DON'T KNOW!_ ”

Dean went dead quiet. Roman had fisted his hands in his hair, his eyes uncomfortably wide and his teeth gritted in a pained grimace. He was shuddering hard all over; throughout all their matches, after all their most dangerous bumps, against their most terrifying opponents, Dean had never once seen Roman look like this.

Roman dragged his hands down his face, curling in on himself as he whispered, “I don't know what we do next. Seth always knew that. This isn't where I'm supposed to _be_ I just– All I wanted was to do right by my family. Seth made the plans. Seth had the ideas. _I don't know what to do._ ”

Roman stumbled backwards, spine hitting the wall and shrinking down to the floor; “We can't do this without him… We are so _fucked_ , Dean.”

Dean just stood there, looking at Roman with his hands hanging limp and useless at his sides. Roman looked like a child right now, cowering in as small a ball a man that big could make in the corner. Dean wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but in his mind Roman had turned from “that Green kid” to “The Grown Up”. He had a child, he had a house and a fiancee and a college education and a family. All of that was supposed to mean that you knew what you were doing, you were steady and dependable and could handle anything.

On the outside, that might be true. But on the inside, in this mirror that shadowed the outside world but never quite touched it, Roman was young. Roman was young and hadn’t built up the scar tissue that covered Dean’s own heart. In this roiling ocean Roman was adrift, and all Dean had was a driftwood raft and threadbare rope to keep them both from drowning.

His throat ached; they were so _fucked_. But they _couldn’t_ be fucked– Someone had to step up. Someone had to keep their heads above the water. It could pull them both down, but Dean had to throw Roman the rope.

Dean ambled over, murmuring to Roman like he was a spooked horse, “Hey, look at me– _Look at me_ ,” Dean knelt down and forced himself to be gentle as he pulled Roman’s hands off his face. Roman’s eyes were bloodshot and his jaw was clenched tight to keep his lips still; Dean almost broke, but he squeezed Roman’s hands and took a deep breath. 

 _Keep it together, Ambrose._  

His voice shook; “You can't let him do this, alright? You can't let him take everything. We're going to make him _pay_ for this.”

The tears finally started rolling from Roman’s eyes as he said in a broken mumble, “I don't want to make him pay. I just want him back.”

Dean’s jaw clenched tight as he put his hands on Roman’s cheeks, but he took a forceful breath in and shoved it out in a sigh; “I… _Damn it_ , I want that too. But I've been down this road before, and he…”

_He’s not going to come back._

Dean came so close. He was inches away from it, his fingertips just barely grazing it, almost enough to grab hold. 

It was everything Dean could do to shake his head and say instead, “I don't know where _we_ go from here, but I know what I'm doing. I'm gonna make Seth answer for this.” 

Dean stayed quiet for a moment, then wiped one of Roman’s tears away with his thumb; “But you don't have to do that with me… I don't think you _should_. That's not you.” 

Roman didn’t say anything, studying Dean with those deep dark eyes ringed in red. Roman always picked the worst times to be impossible to read, and Dean could only stand it for so long. He held his breath and Dean’s fingers trembled on Roman’s face– _please say something, do something, I don’t know how much longer I can keep you grounded before I float away myself_.

Roman brought one big hand up to the back of Dean’s head and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he murmured “Just… tell me that I've still got you.”

There were so many things Dean wanted to say. 

He wanted to tell Roman that so long as they stay in this business no friendship can ever be worth more than gold and glory and fame. That he had forgotten what it was like in the outside world and he could never be what Roman thought he was. That Roman needed to get away while he was still smooth and soft and young enough to not even think of retribution for a knife in his back.

But though he’d traveled along every downward spiral and through every cycle of losing everyone he tried to keep, the hand pulling him close and the forehead resting on his own had smoothed out some of that old scar tissue. It could be different. He wanted to _make_ it different.

So in spite of everything Dean threaded his fingers in Roman’s long hair and pressed a rough kiss to the side of his head.

“You’ve got me, brother,” he said in a rough whisper, pulling Roman so close and so tight that they were almost one man, “You’ve always got me.”


End file.
